An American in Paris
by NotEnoughTimeOnMyHands
Summary: AU story. Red and Liz both find themselves in Paris. No Blacklist. Fate steps in to give them a chance ... But there is always a bump in the road! xx
1. Chapter 1

An American in Paris

Au story. No Blacklist.

I've been workin on this for a while. Thanks to JJGoodhope for letting me run my ideas by you xx looking forward to the new series. Still adoring James Spader!

Timeline altered in places to suit the story. To begin with it's a little prologue but it quickly drifts to the narrative.

This is an iPad edit ... Please forgive the mistakes. I'm between computers and find it difficult to edit here xx I've recently had work stolen and posted on Wattpad. I feel the need to say that I don't own anything. No copyright infringement intended. I'm just borrowing the characters and stepping out for a moment!

* * *

Red stays on the right side of the law. No fire. No mysterious shared past. Liz is adopted by Sam and halts her studies to care for him when he gets sick. Following his death, lost and with no other close family or friends, she decides to resume her studies with a year abroad; studying in Paris.

* * *

Raymond Reddington rose to the rank of Admiral but a growing unease at the Governments policies and procedures, both foreign and domestic, and the gradual but painfully obvious disintegration of his marriage, had him casting around for a alternative to the future he currently saw. He considered offers from private security firms to consult, but generous salaries and lofty positions have never interested him. He has enough money in reserve to retire but still more to give. But what else can he do; does he know? When the answer finally comes to him, he can't believe it took so much soul searching. Not when the answer was right in front of him, or more specifically, not when, out of uniform anyway, the answer is literally all around him.

When Red arrived at Dior, he worked only in men's wear. It suited him, if you'll pardon the pun, to learn the business while working within the sphere that he is so familiar with. Within months he is managing his own store. But his innate skills led to the natural expansion of his role. He isn't head of anything because he doesn't want that role and the publicity that surrounds it. But his vision is as classic as the brand, as revolutionary, as ambitious, as elegant and every bit as stylish! Not only can he wear a suit but he can style it, like no other.

His eye for detail and eye for the ladies means he frequently finds himself in woman's wear; overseeing fittings, assisting clients or ensuring the feminine couture look that they are renowned for, is reflected in their flagship store.

He often finds himself feeling at home, despite the distance that separates him from its geographic location.

Elizabeth Scott is also far from home. Following the death of her father she's a directionless wanderer. Adrift because her anchor has unwillingly departed. She'd delayed her studies to care for the man she called Dad. Now he's gone, she's yet to experience the return of her ambition, her drive and determination. A year abroad was never on her radar, but she knows that she won't fair well if she has to return to her old dorm room; the familiar but now oddly distant classes, without Sam to guide her, without Sam to take pride in even her small accomplishments. She knows she shouldn't need such juvenile validations but in the midst of her grief it's hard to imagine life without him.

Liz is on campus, handing in papers before she is to restart classes and she sees a sign, literally and figuratively, promoting the benefits of a year studying abroad. There are courses in criminal psychology available, so it's a possibility. And at that moment, escape seems just as likely a remedy as anything else she can imagine.

Paris is everything. It's a picture postcard. It's real. It's gritty. She's not staying at the Ritz; she can't even afford a drink there. Sam put money away, money for her, money for the future. But the disease took it, just like it seeped the life out of him. So she sees Paris, from the ground up. It's mix of people, nationalities and cultures. Anywhere else, she might stand out but here she fits right in. She walks the streets, day and night, to and from class and to and from the little café job that keeps her afloat.

To Liz, Paris is both a breathe of fresh air and an isolating purgatory. She knows leaving was a good idea, this change she made was her escape from the reality of what had happened. She's gradually adjusting, gradually accepting the grief. Yet she knows no one. She studied the language, she continues to immerse herself in it but it's never enough. Not enough for her room mate; who rattles off such quick criticism that Liz is lost. Not enough for her tutors who miss the strength of her argument by fixating on an extra article or a missed article (argh the articles!) or any number of things she's only beginning to master.

Liz has seen the sights, she visited most in the first few weeks after her arrival, before reality set in and before she realised the depths of her financial uncertainty. She gazed across the water of a river to the banks on the other side, she's squinted into the sun at the tall peak of its most famous monument and one busy Saturday afternoon she's elbowed her way in for a look at a woman with a mysterious smile.

Elizabeth Scott is not a quitter. Despite everything she's loved about Paris, she's miserable here. She hates feeling inadequate. She loathes, she despises the looks she gets when she makes a language or cultural faux pas. (Why did she have to rent a room from the most unforgiving woman in France?) but she refuses to go home. She refuses to scurry away with her tail between her legs. She'll just have to suck it up. She's been here 4 months. Another 8 won't kill her, she thinks every time to wants to quietly weep in her room.

And it doesn't kill her. Another 3 months pass and Liz has found a steady and comfortable routine, and a thicker skin. She studies, she continues to learn the language and she works. Early on she started to visit the markets and stores on her way to and from work. She window shops, always window shopping, since the things that catch her eye are WAY out of her budget.

Sometimes on her way to or from work she'll stop to gaze at the creations in the windows of one or other well known designer store.

Her current favourite is a vintage inspired gown. It's all silk and tulle. A soft champagne colour and the most classically beautiful cut. There are beads sown on the surface. In the right light it is luminous. In a different light it's breathtaking.

To be continued xx


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Thanks for the support and comments. It's been great to contribute again. Looking forward to the new series and more James Spader ;-)

* * *

Late one evening as the Paris sky opens, Liz is crossing town and soaked to the skin. She's a street away from her current favourite and in this weather it would be madness to divert her journey. But it's been a horrible day, difficult to the point of tears, and the display is sure to change soon, denying her the pleasure of looking at that dress.

Before she can really think any better of it, she alters her path. She dips into a café and gets a take away hot chocolate and within a few minutes she's standing in the middle of Paris, in the pouring rain, transfixed by the beauty that captivates her, but that she cannot have.

Red watched her from the dark interior of the store for many minutes before making his way outside to engage her. He recognises her, knows her from the countless times she's caught his eye through the window, yet she's never been in, and he's never had a chance to engage her in conversation. He wasn't quite ready to go tonight but the others had left and the store was secure, so he took the chance, stepping out into the rain, covered by his elegant umbrella, of course.

Liz has been standing some minutes before she's interrupted by a voice, deep and rich, yet soft, not designed to startle, "good evening".

She steps back, surprised to have been interrupted. He steps slowly towards her, pausing initially when she seems startled, then advancing until she's covered by his umbrella. He knows she's soaked but it's the gentlemanly thing to do, and he's nothing if not a gentleman.

"Thanks" she says looking up, with a little smile touching her lips.

"Would you like to come in?" Red asks, gesturing back to the entrance of the store.

"No. No, thank you" Liz replies, her cheeks flushing as she evaluates her sodden appearance.

"I'm sure we could find something dry for you to change into" he says, his tone full of compassion for her current predicament but there's a hint of mischief there too. He's got the keys to the candy shop, right there in his pocket. When he's watched her before, though the window, her dark hair has always seemed full, luxurious. But in this rain it's all but plastered to her scalp, rat's tails, the water running off in rivulets, to further drench her clothes. Still she's beautiful; he's as captivated by her as she had been moments earlier as she stared in the window.

"No. I... I really couldn't" Liz says, touched by the offer but horrified at the thought of entering while in such a state, the inevitable puddle and the thought of her financial inadequacy. She moves to step around him and he reaches out to softly capture her hand, wordlessly passing her his umbrella. Another redundant gesture he thinks but it almost stops her heart, the kindness of strangers is always so disarming.

Liz smiles warmly at him and starts to step away but falters when she hears him again. "Have dinner with me?" he says, for want of another way to delay her.

Liz spins to face him, her mind fleeting over her schedule, her wardrobe and his put together, sophisticated appearance, "I can't".

"Another time perhaps" he says, extending their interaction. But she continues to step away.

"Drinks" he states, as he steps back into her personal space. It's not a question. Not a demand.

For a moment she's robbed of her voice. There is something about this man. Even in the pouring rain, in the middle of a miserable, dark, Paris night, he is suave, dignified and charismatic. He's bold, reaching out, touching a stranger, someone he's only just met. Liz just nods. Swiftly he withdraws a business card and pen, marking the reverse with some yet to be discovered details.

"Raymond Reddington" he says as he extends the hand holding the card.

"Elizabeth Scott" she responds, breathlessly, taking the card and mindlessly depositing it in her pocket.

"Elizabeth, what a pleasure." Red replies.

For several moments they just regard each other. Her all wide eyed, wondering about this mysterious man. He all soft, warm smiles, delighted to have had the opportunity to finally meet the woman who he has been so taken with.

Finally Liz steps away, repeatedly turning to look back at him. It's he who is now standing motionless, his umbrella now shielding her from the heavy rain that continues to fall.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you and merci for all the lovely reviews. I am delighted by the reception as I've been a bit out of the game. Thanks also for the follows and favs. I'm working on this story whenever possible. I'm thinking a couple of more chapters. I've had a few more ideas for it and I'm working them out.

* * *

Liz crosses town, her thoughts consumed by the turn of events. She continues to shield herself with Raymond's umbrella, yet when she gets home she's still soaked to the skin.

Liz sheds her jacket, and the many other sodden layers, as she makes her way through the small apartment to her bedroom. She retrieves a towel and quickly dries a little before returning to the coat to find the business card Raymond handed to her.

She reaches into her pocket and cringes at the moisture that meets her fingers. Had it been that bad when she deposited the card? Had she failed to notice in her flustered state? Even before she sees it, she knows from the limp feel, that the card is damaged, maybe ruined. What might have been a nice memento is possibly no more!

And sure enough, the once pale card is discoloured, the ink having bled to the point that the handwritten words are no longer visible. On the business side she can still make out his name, her knowledge filling in the gaps. But the damage is worse towards the edge, and where his phone number should be there are only fragments, individual damaged digits, but not a whole.

Liz stand, sits and walks about the room but really she knows there is nothing to be done. Tomorrow, before her shift, she'll go to the shop, explain what happened and ask for the details that the rain washed away. Even though she'll lie awake for hours, she knows there is nothing to be done.

Across town Raymond Reddington has been home, changed and is on his way to his favourite spot in Paris. From the moment he stepped foot in the city he set about finding a place with the right music, a well stocked and eclectic bar and a relaxed, non touristy ambience. Now it's his bolt hole. A place where everyone knows Mr Reddington by name, his seat of choice and his standard drink order.

Raymond reflects that asking someone out and setting the date for the same evening might be construed as a little keen, hasty almost, but he's patiently waited for an opportunity to be introduced and he thinks that fate dragged its heels long enough.

He orders a bottle of champagne, not his standard order, and settles in waiting for Elizabeth to arrive.

Away from work Raymond Reddington is as smartly dressed, but his demeanour changes. He's all hands in pockets and crossed legs, just as suave but all sass, at ease and confident. It's like he's less precise but if you watch his movements you'll see he's not. He surveys the room with confidence and enjoys his surroundings.

When she doesn't appear at the time he wrote so clearly, so carefully, on the card he puts it down to his own poor judgement. He didn't give her enough time to go home. He didn't give her enough time to get dried off or freshened up. He only need be a little more patient and she's bound to arrive. But then half an hour passes, then another. That's when he starts to realise what's occurring. He sits on, drinking the champagne and considering the turn of events.

Raymond Reddington has never been stood up in his life, till now. He's had a few dates end quickly, but always by mutual consent! He's usually the one to pick and choose. The one to call the shots. Always the gentleman; fair, clear and consistent. He never leads anyone on, it's just not his style. He wonders if that's what's happened to him. Yet he knows instinctively that it isn't. He pays the bill and wanders home, wondering what tomorrow brings and hoping it's Elizabeth.

The next morning the sky above Paris has all but forgotten the inclement weather from the evening before. The clouds have dispersed and a gentle glow warms the earth below. The early morning commuters have completed their journey and the shops are open, greeting the first customers of the day.

Raymond Reddington is in full flow, issuing instructions, refreshing and tweaking the vision he has for the store this week. The staff, many with more retail, couture and Dior experience, follow him around, absorbing his words, his eloquent and descriptive language allowing them to understand, to feel, what he envisions.

The central window display, the one with THAT dress, should be updated. But he cannot bring himself to do it, nor will he allow anyone else. It's attracted her before and he wants to leave it a little longer and allow it to draw her to him again.

Raymond is still talking, still leading and guiding when he sees her again, beyond the display he's preserving for her. He utters an excuse and he makes his way out the door to see her.


	4. Chapter 4

Hi again. Here's an update ... Hope you enjoy xx

This story is strangely getting away from me and I have a few more plot ideas still to come. However, I'm a little concerned about going over the top. I like a little drama but I like it to seem feasible too. Let me know what you think! :-)

Story so far: Red works at Dior and Liz is an exchange student. Oh and she just stood him up xx

* * *

"Elizabeth" he says as he approaches, stepping close, leaning in and kissing her cheek.

"Red" she says instinctively, blushing at the over familiarity of the greeting. "Does anyone call you Red?"

"Not for years, but I have a feeling I could grow accustomed to it again very quickly." He says with a smile that's completely genuine and startlingly heart stopping.

"I... The card. It was wet, damaged. I didn't know how else to reach you." Liz says, babbling and blushing further.

"I'm glad you came. We can firm up arrangements for this evening" he says, flawlessly.

"Tonight. Ok, yes. I don't finish until eight" Liz says, sounding doubtful.

"Perfect. I'll meet you there" he says, smiling again, putting her at ease. He asks the details of her work. Taking all of the information in his stride and mentally locking it away. He's not going to have such a near miss again; not going to risk it.

Red is waiting and watching her through the window from across the street, mulling over the plans for this evening. He is all set for a rerun of the previous evening, thinking it's the perfect venue to get to know her, to bring her to his environment and indulge a little, in the music, the atmosphere, in her. But though she brightens when she seems him waiting, he wonders if she isn't a little tired from her day of work. Maybe something more casual would be preferable to her.

Taking out his phone he makes a quick call to an old Parisian friend, asking a favour and knowing it's just the tonic for a long day on your feet. Red kisses her cheek softly in greeting as she exits the cafe, encouraging her to take his arm as he fills her in on this evenings plans.

Victor, the old friend in question, runs a kitchen bistro from his apartment, as often as it suits him. He rarely takes bookings but prefers to post on his blog when the notion takes him. Tables are first come, first served but Red knows he'll always manage to squeeze in last minute surprise visitors.

Victor has had a variety of careers, head chef amongst them, and he had trained in some of the finest French kitchens. But it was his childhood, with his mother and grandmother, in rural France that most influenced his cuisine, and what had critics, gastronomes, just about everyone, falling over themselves to claim a table.

When Red and Liz arrive they discover that tonight Victor hadn't planned to open at all but instead he's in the midst of preparations for some of Red's favourite dishes. He's always found Raymond Reddington to be a generous man and he's in the mood to return the favour. In addition, Red had mentioned a lady friend, and as a true Frenchman, Victor is duty bound to add a little romance.

They are treated to a true culinary experience in an intimate and authentic setting. Everything is perfect. Victor guides them through the dishes and humbly accepts their generous praise following each course. Despite the setting, in his own home, Victor manages to be discreet, allowing Liz and Red to get to know each other for the first time.

And they do get to know each other, over many hours and accompanied by rich food and delicious wine. Liz is comfortable and confident for the first time in months, no more worrying about her cultural inexperience. There's a balance between them, even this early on. Red leads when it's appropriate and sits back to watch her, to listen to her when she wants to.

It's the first of many nights and days they spend together over many months. Slowly their relationship grows and strengthens. He's old fashioned, to a point, so they wait before progressing their physical relationship. But when they do it's passionate and tender and deeply satisfying. He's patient and attentive, and they both experiences a fulfilment beyond anything they've known before.

The only rocky moment is when she invited him over to her apartment for some homemade French onion soup. There had been a few tense moments before they both agreed that it wasn't very French or in fact very edible. Someone is the midst of it all he'd managed to charm her roommate, leading to a thawing of relations for Liz too.

One evening she agrees to accompany him to a fashion week event. Normally, Red doesn't bother with the usual fashion week parties but this is a dinner, in opulent surroundings and seems too good an opportunity to pass up.

Liz wasn't sure what to wear, knowing her budget really wouldn't stretch to anything the fashionista bloggers would find acceptable. But Red saves the day, suggesting that she borrow something from the Dior archive, accessorising himself as a thank you to her for being his date. Early on in the planning she had a thought to decline his invitation, allow him the opportunity to invite someone else, someone more suitably matched. An event like this is really beyond her. If she declined it would be the first time her finances had really impacted their relationship. But the way Red approaches her, approaches the planning and organising is so delicately done. He is so certain about things, so sure about her and the idea of them together.

The evening it perfect. The inside of the ballroom is lit by candles and they are surrounded by delicately scented flowers that only enhance the beauty of the building they are in. The champagne, the meal, the wine, have all been thoughtfully chosen. It's breathtaking and the best part of it all is that they get to share it with each other.

Once the meal is cleared Red starts to socialise more. He's well known and many people seek him out. Red introduces her to everyone they meet, sometimes just exchanging a few words, other times catching up with people he's not seen for some time. He keeps her, he keeps everyone, engaged and enthralled.

Just as they bid farewell to one couple someone approaches from Red's side, "Ray" Liz hears before she sees the woman to whom the voice belongs.

The woman could be Liz in another life time. She's older, certainly closer to Red's age than Liz's but there are undeniable similarities. The height, body shape, hair colour. She's looks like a Parisian polished Liz might look a decade from now.

"Tabitha" Red responds in greeting, as the woman in question swoops in to warmly greet him, kissing him on both cheeks. "Allow me to introduce Elizabeth Scott" Red says indicating Liz and stepping away from Tabitha's grasp.

"A pleasure" Tabitha says with a cool stare and the offer of a limb hand.

"Likewise" Liz responds, smiling briefly before looking back to Red.

Tabitha seems unperturbed by the response she received from Liz or Red and immediately draws Red in to a conversation about old acquaintances and shared experiences that make Red laugh heartily. Even Liz enjoys listening to her stories, though not the occasional flash of jealousy she sees in the woman's eyes.

After a few minutes, stories about people she's never seen or heard of before no longer hold interest, no matter how well told they are. Liz starts to consider her decision to attend, her future, Red's and this substitute Liz.

Liz hasn't told him yet but she can't extend her stay. She enquired about transferring but the tuition fees alone are miles beyond her budget. In just over a month she's leaving and there nothing she can do to stop it. Red hasn't mentioned it once, through he's quite aware of her place on the exchange programme.

He's enjoyed her company, she's certain of that. Maybe the time restriction suits him, maybe he's not looking for anything longer term. Liz is annoyed with herself for not discussing this with him. For suddenly feeling threatened by the presence of a woman from Red's past, knowing she is leaving and there is nothing to stop the future that's rushing towards her.

Liz gathers her bag and slips away from the table, from Red and Tabitha and her growing sorrow, uttering a few words of explanation and retreating to the rear of the room. She doesn't see and Tabitha does notice the micro expression that speaks of Red displeasure at her leaving. She orders a drink at the bar and waits. From her slightly elevated position she can see the room. She thinks she'll wait out Tabitha and then return, but as she lifts the drink to her lips she sees Red stand and begin to make his way towards her.

He meets her and waits a beat before speaking, "Why did you do that?".

"I'm leaving Red. Long distance. I don't think that's our thing." Liz responds. Speaking forcefully, attempting to sound confident when she feels anything but.

"And what was that?" He asks, gesturing back across the room.

"Stepping aside." She tells him honestly, a hint of the sorrow she feels colouring her voice.

Red is angry, at least she thinks he is. She's never seen him angry before and he is doing one hell of a job keeping his features neutral, his expression passive. But there is an almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw, he seems to hold the tension there, his jaw working to dissipate how he feels.

After a pause he speaks, "This isn't some fling, Elizabeth. You're not my midlife crisis. I'm in love with you. I realise I neglected to raise the subject with you, but whatever happens I'm not about to let you walk away."

That wasn't the declaration he had planned. It feels clumsy and rushed, his anger at her earlier actions forcing the words from his mouth. It wasn't like him to be so undone but the thought of her leaving and her easy acceptance at their fate has him wrong footed. Had he misread her? Had he allowed himself to develop deep feeling for her while she's stayed guarded, nonchalant? He stays quite. Angry, reflecting.

After a few minutes Liz gathers her thoughts and responds, "I'm sorry" she whispers. It's doesn't seem enough but it is, Red steps closer, pulling her into an intimate embrace, kissing her hair softly and exhaling all the tension and anger that had instantly consumed him. "Lizzie" he murmurs so softly she's not sure if she heard it or fantasised it.

Red takes her hand and leads her away from the ballroom and the building. They have a long overdue conversation that needs to be had.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N sorry for the delay. Writing for work killed any enthusiasm I had for a little bit. There's only one more chapter after this. iPad edit. Sorry for any errors!

Love to Paris. Never had the pleasure but I'd love to go xx

I've alluded to or perhaps borrowed a line from Sherlock Holmes here (RDJ version) No copyright infringement intended. It's just a little homage. Having had my work stolen... Word for word... I'm more particular about disclaimers. I don't own the blacklist. But the plot here. That's all mine! ;-)

Previously in An American in Paris: Liz is an exchange student, Red works at Dior. Liz is about to leave for home! All AU ;-)

* * *

The discussion they have is frank and honest. There is no way to change the conditions of Liz's course. She hasn't the money to transfer and she won't let Red pay. There is no alternative. Leaving college because of a man seems a little anachronistic and he won't let her miss the chance, not on his account. Liz won't ask him to give up his job, his life or beautiful Paris. She's leaving, there's no way around it but they are not giving up.

When the time comes Liz flies back. They regularly Skype. Usually everyday; morning or between classes. Whatever works. It's enough. Red says something romantic and she's with him, not just chatting, but in his company. They don't think about it but their relationship transcends the distance.

They haven't made any arrangements to visit, nor spoken aloud any promises they intend to keep. Red wouldn't want to limit her but they both know there is also no point. It's as if there is nothing of interest for them in the world, beyond each other. Red frequently talks about the future, little references to things they'll do when they are reunited. Liz smiles widely but listens rather than contributing. She's not reluctant to see him, far from it, but for now she can't imagine how it's possible, she can't put into words her wishes when they are so far apart, things so uncertain. She can't afford the airfare to visit and she can hardly invite Red to stay in her dorm room, should he choose to visit her.

Months pass. It's happy, but it's hard.

Then one night, Liz is returning from the library late, later than planned. It's dark out. Dark and damp. The threat of rain from the low, thick cloud creating an oppressive atmosphere. The light from the street lamps seems to be swallowed whole, the gloom spreading from the shadows to engulf every object. Liz is naturally cautious, Sam raised her to protect herself. To know when to be careful and when to spot danger. And you don't study criminal psychology without developing some degree of paranoia. Really she senses the danger before she hears it, long before she sees it. The quiet but steady footsteps behind her finally confirming what the goose bumps, the shiver down her spine, had hinted at. Liz picks up the pace but the steady rhythm changes to a staccato beat and she realises that she's not making any headway, the opposite seems to be true.

Even before her walk can change to a run, to a sprint, she's accosted. It's a blur but she knows she fights back. Instinct. She isn't aware of her surroundings, her pain, her injuries until minutes later when her breathing, the pumping of her lungs, begins to slow. It's adrenaline, so vital; yet it sets her on edge even more, enhancing everything she feels and finally forcing her to her feet to finish her walk home.

She patches herself up as best she can. Make do and mend. The motto of poverty stricken people and students everywhere. She's sore all over, but the worst of it is the black eye. And she's left with a dilemma; what to tell Red, how to tell Red.

A day passes and Red gets a rain check excuse by text for their missed Skype call. Unusual but not too concerning. Then another. Then another, followed by a hardly reassuring short text. Something is most defiantly wrong and Raymond Reddington is determined to get to the bottom of it.

Another day passes and Liz is on her way to class when she hears the delicate tone that indicates an incoming message. She stops and digs out her phone, guilt heavy on her chest. She doesn't want to keep things from him and she doesn't want to lie. That's not the relationship they've built.

"Hey stranger" Red's message reads, causing a sad smile to appear on her lips.

"Hey" Liz types in response.

A moment later her phone rings. Liz doesn't hesitate, picking up his call.

"Lizzie" he says, relief evident in his voice. "Is everything ok?"

"Sure, I'm good. yeah. I'm sorry I've been out of touch" she stubbles over her words, her explanation.

"You don't sound sure. Lizzie, tell me, are you ok?"

Liz is moved by the concern in his voice, she takes a deep breath and starts the story she should have told him the very night it happened. Only she didn't want him to know how frightened she'd felt or to sound like some defenceless damsel in distress, not while he was half a world away. "You are too good to me. I'm sorry I haven't been in touch. I really am. I've had a few issues but believe me when I say I'm ok, better having heard your voice".

"What happened?" He asks quietly, patiently waiting for the story to be told.

"A purse snatcher. Just a stupid moment on the way back from the library." Liz replies, stopping her stride to explain, to placate.

"Lizzie" he says simply.

"It's ok, it really is" Liz says, reassuring herself more than him.

"I can see that" Red tells her.

It takes her a moment to process.

"What?" She says spinning round, wondering if he means what she thinks he means. Wondering, until their eyes meet.

"Red" Liz says, it's all she can get out, her voice full of emotion, full of love.

Red just walks, never breaking eye contact, until he has her in his arms. Then he holds her, inhales her scent, and enjoys the feel of her. Relearning every detail of her, the memories he clung to in her absence.

They stand that way for so long she starts to giggle. Half wondering what people walking past them must think, half overjoyed.

"Oh Red. I'm sorry. You didn't need to come" Liz tells him.

"Nonsense Lizzie. I planned to visit soon anyway. I was growing old waiting for an invitation." He says as he moves back, taking her hand in his, and leading her towards the building she was headed to before his call.

"What time does your class finish?" He asks as they mount the steps.

"Three. I've got an early finish today" she replies.

"I'll be here, waiting on you" Red says as they stop again. He cups her cheek, his thumb skirting the lower part of her bruise. His lips are a thin line, betraying his dissatisfaction at the experience she endured. When he leaves her he's going to follow this up. He may have departed company with the navy but he still knows people. He'll make sure whoever is responsible gets prosecuted to the fullest extent of that law. He might have a refined job now but he's not above asking for five minutes alone and roughing up the son of a bitch himself.


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you, thank you for the support for this fic. (JJ thanks for all the support over lots of stories. Know I'd always love to read anything you write). I still avidly watch the show and am so glad to have finished this fic. * marked as complete* Good Feeling! A few times I've come to the end of a story and had nothing else brewing. This is very much one of those times. Yet I've finished. Satisfied myself, if no one else. For now I'm done! Very best wishes xx

another iPad edit. Sorry for errors.

Previously in An American in Paris.

Red works at Dior. Liz is an exchange student. She has already gone home and Red is visiting following a moment of drama!

* * *

Red and Liz fall into a comfortable routine. It's Paris all over again, the same pattern to their days, but now a nervous anxiety until they see each other again. Being separated, knowing how hard it is, how miserable it made them, brings on that feeling.

Red has taken a post in DC, back with Dior. The post has been carved out specifically for him, DC based with the occasional trip, and it's for keeps if he wants it. Red found a house not too far from campus that allows for their regular dates and the occasional sleepover.

The frequency of their sleepovers increases until Liz is aware that a number of her belongings now seem to live at Red's. She sometimes makes a conscious effort to repatriate those to her dorm, unaware that Red is subtly attempting to hoard everything, preventing her from removing them and supplementing them with things he knows she uses and likes. He wants his home to feel like her home, for it not to be a surprise when he begins to refer to it as such, or when he asks her to give up living at the dorm completely.

When a business trip to Paris comes along Red asks Liz to stay at the house. He suggests security as his motivation but he hopes it's a tipping point. And if it isn't, he's just going to ask. When he reflects on Paris he knows she's independent, proud too, but when they are together it works, there is no denying it.

So Liz stays the four days. Every day she spends there is a pleasure. One that's magnified in Red's presence certainly but she's still enjoyed it alone. He likes the finest things and she finds that she is growing accustomed to enjoying those luxuries too.

When he arrives back she's waiting, their reunion a warm embrace in the midst of the arrival of a plethora of boxes and parcels. Red had most certainly arrived home with more luggage than he left with but Liz is not surprised. Her bags are packed too, wondering if he's jet lagged, wishing for space and home comforts, but he convinces her to stay, having missed her from the moment he left.

"Dinner, Lizzie. Then I'll let you unwrap you Parisian souvenir." Red teases as he takes her hand and leads her to the kitchen. He makes dinner, frequently interrupting it to kiss her. In the beginning those kisses are soft and romantic, reminding her of his absence and the strength of her feeling. As they continue they progress. He envelopes her. One hand pulls her body to him, leaving no space, no air between them, the fingers of the other threading in her hair. He starts a fire that she knows will burn eternally. There will never be a moment when she isn't consumed by him; when she doesn't want him, love him.

Red wants to show her further how he's missed her, how he feels, but he has more to say, the surprise he's brought with him telling its own story. So he manages to pull away, finishing dinner, satisfying his craving for her by keeping her close, touching her, hearing about her life in the short time he has been absent.

When dinner is over Red opens some champagne, telling Liz he's taken the notion again, having spent those days in France. Then he takes her upstairs, leading her to the master bedroom. On the bed is a large box. One she remembers him arriving with, giving instructions for.

"What's this?" She ask, blushing already at what she assumes will be another indulgent but perfect gift.

"Your souvenir" Red replies and he casually sips from his champagne saucer.

Liz places her glass down and starts to unwrap. The outer box is obviously for the journey. Designed to keep the inner box protected and intact. When she removes the white box with its white ribbon from the packaging Red swiftly removes that, leaving her with what is clearly the gift.

She pulls the ribbon until it releases, It delicately falls in waves and Liz finds herself inhaling and exhaling, an unexpected flutter in her heart. She lifts the lid and places it on the bed. Her world feels like it has narrowed to this moment; to Red, to her and to this box. The lid gives way to tissue and the tissue gives way to blush coloured tulle. She dips her hands beneath the tulle and lifts what she knows to be the top. It's the first time she has touched it but she knows it already by heart. Her souvenir is the dress she coveted, she admired, all those months ago in Paris.

Before she can speak she gathers it to her, feeling it's softness, the silk. She wraps an arm around it and turns to sit on the bed, lost for words but their shared expression tells it all.

"I thought I'd surprise you" Red offers when she still can't think what to say. Liz can't think how to begin to thank him. It is a souvenir. It's Paris to her. Her best memory. It's the ruined business card and their first meeting. The days exploring the city and their nights in bed. The first date and the balm that soothed her devastated and broken heart.

Liz isn't far from tears, the smile she gives him enough of a reward.

"I'm thinking graduation" Liz says, her voice full of humour and emotion.

"I was thinking, wedding dress" Red respond with a warm smile.

* * *

Years later Red will tell her of the hours he waited on her, back in that bar in Paris. They'll laugh together, looking back at the beginning. Casting an eye over the life they made together. The change in her life, the change in his.

xxx


End file.
